


sparing you, at my own expense

by CyberPhoenix



Series: THSC Rave Week 2021 [4]
Category: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)
Genre: Bittersweet, M/M, mental health issues + bad coping methods, mentions of dethronement + death, pls you two just COMMUNICATE i am begging, sometimes u just gotta cry it out but like secretly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29194635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyberPhoenix/pseuds/CyberPhoenix
Summary: The things you say, the things you do, under stress.Sometimes the worst ideas sound better when you're hurting.Randy and Terrence, and the end of their leaderships.Rave Week 2021 - Day 4 - Sleep Deprived/Overworked + Forgiveness
Relationships: Randy Radman/Terrence Suave
Series: THSC Rave Week 2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137257
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	sparing you, at my own expense

_Knock knock._

“Randy, can I come in?” Terrence called through the door, resting his open palm on it. He could hear the telltale tap of the Toppat leader pacing, back and forth, the restlessness audible in their every footstep. Today, again, things felt distant. It was his job as Randy’s right hand-- as Randy’s, well-- it was his job to help support them when things got rough. And they _were_ rough, right now. Disastrous, almost-- not that he’d ever admit it, and not that they’d say so, either. Speaking of, there was no response. “Randy? It’s getting late, at least try to get some rest when you can, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.” Came the mumble, half muffled by the door, an answer given only because he’d neglected to persist. That really was what it felt like they were, nowadays, huh? He would push, and push, trying to reach towards them, and they only pulled further back, away from him and away from help. It hurt, but… he cared more about how much they must’ve been hurting, now. It couldn’t’ve been a pleasant feeling, watching something so great crumble into pieces from--

\--from what, exactly? Randy racked their mind, still searching for where they’d gone wrong. Was it the parties? Sure, they’d thrown them so often, it did put some strain on the funds, but they’d made sure to earn it all back, they were sure of it-- they’d thought they were sure of it. The click of their heels was like a metronome, keeping pace with their thoughts as it all swirled around in their head. 

It had all been so perfect, had all been so wonderful, had all been so brilliant. Finally, they’d been able to shine-- everyone had been able to shine, to be happy, to enjoy life to the fullest. Yet now? Now it seemed like the world was darker than ever, like everything they’d done had only led up to this one catastrophic failure they faced. They had to shoulder this burden alone, surely-- there was no need to involve Terry in this. He was innocent, he wasn’t at fault-- and in turn, they couldn’t allow him to get too close. If he did, well, that would only make things worse, and they didn’t want it, didn’t--

\--didn’t want to see him again, it seemed, the door being more than that. It wasn’t just a shut door, it was the nights of silence, of bit back words and unanswered questions, of half-truths and deflections that never let Terrence just _help_ , never let him do anything. He couldn’t blame Randy, really-- the two of them were at least matched in a stubbornness to not let others take on their pain if they could help it, but this was different than something petty! This was serious, and he didn’t want them to have to bear it alone.

He knew the clan was getting restless. Dethronement, while not something that had happened in a long while, wasn’t something unheard of in the recent past of the clan. Incompetent leaders being thrown over the edge, being shot dead in the midst of a raid gone wrong, being poisoned at the height of a grand feast-- all that mattered was a majority part that could subdue the rest of the clan into obeying the new leadership. He’d heard rumors, heard whispers that stopped whenever he passed by-- surely, he would go down with Randy, his loyalty was too much to try and convince otherwise. It was okay, though-- if he had to die, he would be okay as long as he remained with his one and only--

\--their one and only, the one who had stood by them for so long, they needed to keep him safe. If things really were collapsing, there was no way Randy was gonna let him take the fall for it. They had to take responsibility, had to accept their fate, and… had to leave him behind. If they were apart, it would be safer for Terrence, and that was what mattered. He was all that mattered, anymore-- if they were just someone doomed to fall, they were going to make sure he would not be dragged down with them.

But. They… did not want to die. Coward that they were, unable to truly be held accountable, they felt like there was so much more they had to do, so much more they had to be-- they couldn’t just let it all end here. They just _couldn’t_ . But they still needed out, they still needed to escape the clan, and-- to let it heal. To let it move on without them. To let _him_ move on, without them. It… stung, a little. Knowing what they had to do, knowing what it would cost. It was for the best, they told themself, it was for the best.

* * *

How many days had it been, now? Too many to count, and once he’d filled up that one notepad with his laments, he’d let it burn in the fireplace, taking away only his words, but not his feelings. No point in keeping track when it didn’t help, when _nothing_ ever helped, when that void in his heart continued to grow and grow, and one day it would just consume him entirely, he was sure of it. His eyelids felt heavy as his gaze drifted across the papers in front of him-- records, of failures, of successes (of the latter, there were few)-- barely picking up the information as he read and reread the same paragraph over and over. He was tired, in all honesty, and what he wouldn’t give for just one more chance, for just--

_\--just, one more?_

He was alone, right. Sometimes he forgot, when his mind was so clouded by grief and exhaustion that he swore he was somewhere else, somewhen else, _with_ someone else, with the one he so missed-- damn it all, he did _not_ need to start thinking about them again. They’d _left_ him, they’d _abandoned_ him, they… no longer loved him, surely. Cast him aside just like everyone else had in his life, left him to pick up the pieces of a broken plate in the deafening silence of a kitchen that only served judgement, took what little trust he had left and tore it to shreds as if it were a daisy being pulled apart, petal by petal--

_\--he loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not._

Damn it all. Damn them, damn the clan that thought _he_ could pull it all back together-- _Terrence Suave, notable smart guy and very emotionally stable bachelor_ \-- oh, now that was a putrid thought. The ring box still felt heavy in his suit pocket, never touched, never moved. He really didn’t know why he kept it around, really. A memento to a love long lost, or a token that symbolized the failure of a man he was always meant to be, having his happiness ripped from him without even the chance to protest otherwise? It was all so stupid, all so pointless, all so--

_\--so sad, so so sad…_

_  
__  
_ He was exhausted. He needed rest, but he wasn’t done with these stupid papers-- sure, he could just try to wing the heist tomorrow like he had so many times before, but then what? Give the pile of failures just another file for him to analyze the day after that? It all felt so futile, so damned pointless. Sure, there were people he could ask for help, but what use would that do? Ask for help, and risk anyone seeing him like this? At least with the raids he could forget. He could take a deep breath, put on the mask of the man who definitely was a-okay, and just walk out the door--

_\--the door they never opened, the door that they fled through, the door that they shut in his face…_

Terrence let his head drop onto the desk with a painful thunk. He… he was just so fed up with everything. All of it, all of this, all of him-- it wasn’t worth the effort, really. Maybe never had been. So what if it was all gonna end bad? Probably had been fated to be like that from the start. He really had ought to stop delaying the inevitable… but maybe he could still set one thing right. He wasn’t going to be like Randy. He was going to go out the proper way, the path suited for such a miserable failure of a leader. _He_ didn’t have anything left to save, anyways.

* * *

  
  


The rain beat down hard, winds threatening to pull the umbrella out of his hands-- and if he hadn’t already had a death grip on the handle, the shock would’ve made him let go. Seeing them, standing there-- pale as a ghost. 

“I thought you died.” They finally uttered, voice barely a whisper, their eyes wide-- they weren’t wearing their shutter shades anymore, which… was a surprise… but it was still definitely them, even if they wore about eight less colors than usual.

Stunned and unable to really form a coherent thought, all Terrence could really muster was a weak, “Yeah, me too.” Whether that was about them, or about himself-- he honestly wasn’t sure. “...so.”

“...so!” Randy tried to crack a smile, but it felt strained, as if they were talking to a stranger. Perhaps he was closer to a stranger, with how long it had been-- with everything that had happened…

The silence hung thick between them, of those years apart and the agonies that lie between. “I… I should go.” Terrence finally said, pulling back, getting ready to shut the door that had always been closed on him in return. “Goodnight.”

It was a moment of hesitation, as every possibility played out for better and for so much worse-- Terrence was _leaving_ , was _disappearing out of their life_ , probably for good this time-- but they didn’t let another one pass, sticking out a hand towards the man turning away from them. “W-wait!” 

“.....” He had to take a shaky breath, having _dreaded_ \-- hoped, maybe-- that this would happen. Slowly turning back to face them, he tried to keep his expression passive, tried to keep in the wave of questions he wanted to ask, the answers he wanted to know right in _front of him_ , but yet so far away. “What do you--” Shit, his voice was wavering. “ _What do you want._ ” Shit, too much, too much-- he wasn’t angry with them-- well, maybe a little, but still!

“Can, can we at least talk? Five minutes, that’s-- that’s all I ask. C’mon, Terry, you can’t just--”

“Can’t just _what_ , Randy? Run away? Leave you behind, act like what we were was nothing? Act like you don’t give a single damn about me, and I the same to you?” So much for staying calm. He burst out laughing, a pained laugh that carried with it all the weight that he’d never truly let go of over those years. “Yeah, yeah, sure! I won’t follow in _your_ footsteps. Least, not like that.”

That… stung. Pretty bad, actually. But it was something at least, even if it was a bit painful. “I know I fucked up, it was-- it was really unepic of me to not tell you--”

“You left me for the dogs, Randy. I’m only here because I’m _supposed_ to be dead, but I didn’t let-- but they didn’t manage to kill me right.” He still wasn’t sure how to feel about surviving, especially _now_ , having to face them again.

“...I wanted to protect you.” Their voice was weak, full of regrets and good intentions. Neither of them were very good at thinking things through under stress, or in the spur of the moment-- and it seemed that was where it all started, wasn’t it?

“...lotta good that did then, eh?” He glared up at them, sticking his free hand in his pocket. His knuckles brushed against the box-- still had it, even through death itself-- and he froze. Like a dam breaking, tears welled in his eyes, and… the anger with it, washed away. He hated what Randy did, yeah-- but… it was because of how deeply he’d missed them. How deeply he’d wished to help them. “-you’re lucky I-- you’re lucky I care about you this much.” He muttered, turning his gaze down so they couldn’t see him cry. There was so much more to talk about, to ask, to answer, to explain-- but right now, he didn't care. Right now, he just wanted to pretend none of it ever happened, and just love Randy as much as he had before-- as much as he _always_ had, really.

“Terrence…” They held back, unsure what to do. “...I’m, uh. Really, _really_ glad you’re alive. Can we please,” Randy held a hand out towards him, “-can we try to start over, maybe? Leave it all behind us, and just--”

Terrence stepped forward suddenly, throwing his arms to wrap tightly around their frame, burying his face in their coat, not caring that he’d dropped the umbrella. “I’m glad you’re alive too, you-- _you._ ” He mumbled into the fabric, relaxing as he felt their arms embrace him in return.

“...y-yeah?” They were crying too, now, but hopefully the rain camouflaged it well enough. “Good, ‘cause I don’t plan on leaving you anytime soon, death or otherwise.”

“...good.” 

The rain poured harder, but it was okay. The sound muffled the quiet thrum of two hearts once again becoming whole.


End file.
